


rumor has it

by ObscureReference



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood and Injury, Eye Trauma, Gen, Magic, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 02:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12695520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: There was a rumor in Ylisse that if your soulmate was in danger and your connection was strong enough, the gods would allow you to appear before them to assist them, no matter the miles between. Stories like that popped up from time to time, though never firsthand. It was always a rumor or a romantic line or a reminder that someone was looking out for you, somewhere.Owain liked stories. Mostly stories about brave warriors and cunning heroes, but stories all the same. He liked the idea of magic and fate.But truth be told, he wasn’t sure that rumor was true.





	rumor has it

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be longer and have Leo in it as well, but after writing this portion, I lost motivation to try to figure out the other parts. Maybe I'll write more sometime, but maybe not. This fic takes place while Odin is still Owain, and he and Niles are both pretty young. 
> 
> Also this is my 99th fic on AO3! I wonder what 100 will be?

There was a rumor in Ylisse that if your soulmate was in danger and your connection was strong enough, the gods would allow you to appear before them to assist, no matter the miles between. Stories like that popped up from time to time, though never firsthand. It was always a rumor or a romantic line or a reminder that someone was looking out for you, somewhere.

Owain liked stories. Mostly stories about brave warriors and cunning heroes, but stories all the same. He liked the idea of magic and fate.

But truth be told, he wasn’t sure that rumor was true.

That said, he had been playing around with Cynthia in the field a moment ago.

Now, he was sitting in a dirty alley staring up at a boy who looked to be a few years older than him. The boy’s hair was light and his skin was dark and there was a gross bloody wound where his eye should have been.

Owain’s mouth fell into a surprised ‘O.’

The boy glared at him, scowling, and pressed his hand against the wound. “Where the hell did you come from?”

The words were harsh, but they lacked energy. If the boy made a threat, Owain wasn’t sure he could back it up. He looked exhausted. Owain’s stomach had dropped at the sight of all that blood.

Then Owain blinked. Hard. The sounds from the mouth of the alley, where it seemed there was the hustle and bustle of some marketplace, didn’t sound familiar. He’d been in a field a minute ago, and now he was in an alley. Something about this whole situation screamed of magic.

But someone was hurt and they needed help and he could hear his mother’s voice in the back of his head, so Owain stretched out a hand and said, “Are you—”

The boy slapped his hand away with a snarl. _"Don’t touch me.”_

Owain withdrew. He watched a bit of blood drip between the boy’s fingers. He pressed his lips together and tried not to think about it.

So he couldn’t get any closer, and for some reason the boy was curled up in the back of an alley instead of a few feet down the road where there were people who could help him. Owain frowned. There had to be a reason for that.

His injured eye… Had someone hurt him on purpose?

If so, then people could mean more danger. It was no wonder this boy was defensive. He didn’t know Owain from a common villain!

Obviously that would have to change.

Owain reached into his pocket, and the boy watched him warily, tense. When Owain pulled out a mostly clean handkerchief instead of a weapon, the boy’s mouth twisted with confusion.

“Here,” Owain said, holding out the handkerchief. “You should put this on your eye.”

The boy didn’t move.

“For the bleeding,” Owain added. He wondered if the boy had injured his head as well. Or if he just had bad hearing. He wasn’t entirely sure what he should be doing; he was just trying to follow the advice he thought his mother would give. He wished she were here. Or that his dad were here, to take care of whoever had hurt the boy. Or that both of them were there. They would know what to do better than Owain.

After a moment, the boy’s one good eye drifted between Owain’s face and his hand.

“Why?” the boy drawled, sounding suddenly much cockier than he looked like he should feel. “Is it poisoned?”

“What!” Owain had been trying to keep his voice subdued, worried about scaring the boy off the way his mother sometimes warned his games would do, but that accusation was too much to take. He waved the handkerchief in the air. “Why would I ever want to do that? And how could I even be holding it right now if it was poisoned?”

His hands were bare. He wore no gloves to avoid touching poison. He couldn't imagine even _wanting_ to poison anybody. Nevertheless, the boy pursed his lips and stared.

Owain sighed. “Look, just take it okay?”

He half expected the boy to snap something at him again, but surprisingly, after a beat, he took the handkerchief. Their fingers didn’t touch. The boy pressed the white cloth to his eye and wiped his bloody fingers against the bottom of his cloak. Owain settled against the wall.

They didn’t say anything for a moment, and Owain was quietly taking pride in the face he’d hadn’t started freaking out yet when the boy suddenly asked, “Who are you?”

Owain puffed out his chest. Now _this_ was something he could do.

“I am Owain of Ylisse,” he announced. He hadn’t thought of a better title than that yet, but he was close. He and Cynthia had a whole list going. “I’m a swordsman in training, like my father before me, and—”

“Why are you helping me?”

Owain closed his mouth. He guessed he could finish his introduction later. He didn’t totally understand the question though.

When Owain didn’t immediately answer, the boy shifted, antsy, and asked again, “ _Why_ are you helping me?”

“Uh, because you need help?” Owain hedged. Obviously.

“I don’t owe you anything,” the boy said.

Owain faltered. He’d never heard a tone like that before, and he’d especially never heard such disgust at the idea of owing another person. Not that he would have owed Owain anything anyway.

“Yeah, I know,” Owain said, a little annoyed that this boy distrusted him so. “It’s called kindness. Haven’t you ever heard of it?”

The boy scowled. “You mean _pity_.”

Owain scowled right back. “No, I don’t.”

They stared at each other, at an impasse. After a beat, Owain said, “What’s your name?”

“Why should I tell you?” the boy said. Owain huffed.

“Look, you can give me a fake name or whatever, okay?” Owain grumbled, tired of this back-and-forth. “But I told you mine, so it’s only fair.”

He definitely wasn’t pouting because heroes didn’t pout, even if his mom made fun of his dad for pouting sometimes. Dad always said he wasn’t pouting though, so Owain wasn’t either. He was just tired and confused. He wished he knew where he was.

Once again he didn’t expect anything, and once again he was surprised when the boy suddenly said, “Niles.”

“Huh?” All the thoughts Owain had been having about apologizing and letting the name thing go stopped at the sound of his voice.

“You can call me Niles,” the boy—Niles—said.

Owain didn’t know if that was his name or not, but it didn’t matter anymore. He nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

Niles grunted. Owain listened to the sounds of the city and wondered if there was a doctor somewhere nearby.

Owain had broken his arm once. He’d fallen from a tree, and the pain of that broken bone had been the worst thing he’d ever felt in his life. His dad had been off at war like he so often was these days, and it had been only Owain’s mother who was around to comfort him, pushing his hair back and whispering soothing words as she prepared to heal him while he cried into her chest. The whole experience had been awful. And here Niles sat in front of him, the only indicator that he felt any pain being occasional quiet gasp of pain and grimace he let slip through the otherwise blank mask he wore.

Niles, Owain thought, had amazing restraint.

“You’re not from around here,” Niles suddenly said.

Owain cocked his head. “How do you know?” he asked.

“Just take a look at yourself,” Niles said, sounding somewhat amused.

Owain looked down, then at Niles. Owain’s boots were big and his shirt was trimmed with fur at the edges to keep him warm. They were normal winter clothes. It was frosty in Ylisse and even colder in Regna Ferox. Meanwhile, Niles’ thin, dark cloak barely looked like it’d keep him warm in the snow. Owain tilted his head, considering.

They were dressed pretty differently, now that he thought about it. And while the air was cool and Owain was glad for the extra warmth, it wasn’t nearly cold enough to snow. Still, he wondered if Niles was cold. Owain’s mom probably wouldn’t have minded if he brought an extra friend home for the night, especially if Niles need help. She’d probably know what to do more than he would. They had some clothes to spare.

“So I’ll ask again,” Niles said, drawing Owain from his thoughts. “Why are you here?”

Owain considered the question. “That depends. Where’s ‘here’?”

Niles squinted at him. “Don’t you even know where you are?” He sounded intrigued. “You’re in the capital of Nohr.”

“Nohr?” Owain wrinkled his nose. “Never heard of it.”

“Impossible,” Niles said immediately, like a reflex, but then he seemed to consider it. At least his attention wasn’t on the huge amount of pain he had to be feeling right now, Owain thought, so that was good. “Everyone’s heard of Nohr and Hoshido.”

“I haven’t. I told you, I’m from Ylisse.”

“And _I’ve_ never heard of Ylisee,” Niles countered. “You could be making it up, for all I know.”

That was too far.

“I’m not making up Ylisse!” Owain said, too loudly. Ylisse was everything. It was his _home_. “Maybe _you’re_ the liar.”

“Sit down,” Niles snapped.

At some point he had stood up, Owain realized. Almost reluctantly, he sat back down, crossing his arms. Niles relaxed a bit. The rough brick duck into Owain’s back.

Now the air felt tense. Part of Owain wanted to leave the alley and explore the world beyond, maybe to find bandages or a map or something, but an even bigger part of him was worried about what Niles would do if he left. They didn’t really know each other, but his mom had always taught him to care about people, even strangers, and so he did.

They regarded each other with caution. Owain wasn’t sure Niles liked him but he at least wasn’t a threat in Niles’ book. At least, he hoped not. He wasn’t sure he liked Niles either, but he didn’t want anything bad to happen to him now that they knew each other, so that was a start.

“Do you…” Owain licked his lips. The seriousness of the situation and the blood dripping down Niles’ cheek suddenly weighed on him, and he was hyper-aware of the sounds of civilization outside the alley. This didn’t feel anything like playing around with Cynthia or Brady. He wondered if his parents ever felt like this.

Owain took a deep breath. “Look, do you need help? Because you look like you hurt. A lot.” Niles glared. Owain pressed on. “I know you don’t trust me and somebody hurt you like that on purpose—” Of course it was on purpose; nobody would ever hurt another person like that and leave them on an _accident_ , and the longer Owain looked at the blood-soaked handkerchief and imagined the missing organ beneath it, the more his stomach was beginning to twist. “—but you really need help. My mom could help, if you wanted. She’s a cleric.”

He held out his hand. He wasn’t sure what he was holding his hand out for, exactly, except maybe to offer a tentative friendship. The gap between their two sides of the alley seemed to stretch on for miles.

After a long, long moment without moving, Niles said, “No. I can take care of myself.”

He didn’t sound mean about it—he sounded hesitant, almost, though something told Owain he shouldn’t press the issue—and Owain wasn’t sure if that was true. But there wasn’t much else he could do. He lowered his hand.

“Okay,” Owain said slowly, feeling like he should have been doing more. “You can keep the handkerchief.”

Niles opened his mouth to say something, but Owain didn’t get the chance to hear it. That image—the handkerchief now more pink and red than white, the dirty brick wall behind his head, Niles’ unreadable expression—

That image was the last glimpse Owain had of Nohr before he found himself sitting in that field again, looking up at Cynthia’s bewildered face.

**Author's Note:**

> The wiki said Niles lost his eye when he was young to another criminal, so if you didn't guess it yet, that's the event I chose here.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment below or hit me up on my [tumblr!](http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/)


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